| Arsenic Lobster poetry journal | Final Issue 2018 |
| | Home | Current Issue | Contributors | Order | Archive | About Us | Misty | | |
| Regrowing My Own Teeth j/j hastain Juliet Cook If I was a blonde blow up doll the color of my hair would not matter. The words that I used to use that I can’t anymore were replaced with moans and I can’t speak for myself. I can still think for myself though, even though it’s stuck inside. I can pretend what’s dripping down my quiet screaming throat is sea foam. I can reach through it to find the bottle that holds the genie. I don’t want a genie of my very own to call my own. I want a genie to wave its hands in the air and let me come out. Today the genie is under the bed. I think it’s only pretending to hide, keeping me from shouting I am ready to set fire to the reigns. Whenever I’m shoved under the bed, I practice my techniques. How to snap my mouth shut at just the right time. How to turn my blonde hair red until the color matters and sets me free. |
|
About j/j hastain About Juliet Cook Previous Poem | Next Poem |
| | Home | Current Issue | Contributors | Order | Archive | About Us | Misty | |